#these are the scenes I really wanted to color

[ponett]

Do you have any advice for people making OCs/sonas? Yours are really well rounded and unique and I'd greatly appreciate the insight of someone who got a passion project off the ground!

So this is a very broad topic, and it varies a lot based on your own creative goals, what kind of characters you're creating, and where you want to use them. Creating an OC to be used in furry pinups is a little different than creating one for a dramatic story. But I'll try to give some general advice on how I do things for the types of characters and stories I tend to work with

Heads up: this will be kinda long lol

The germ of an idea

For me, I'll generally be inspired to create a character starting with a small number of core traits. These could be anything. A color scheme, a body type, a job, a hobby, a personality archetype, an outfit, a visual motif, a functional role in a story I'm working on, a noteworthy facial feature, a weapon, a relationship of some sort to an existing character, a single scene or joke I want to use them for. For furries and fantasy characters, species is usually one of the first things I'll have an idea for, which tends to get the ball rolling fairly easily since we have all sorts of cultural associations with different animals and fantasy creatures.

Any standout character trait like this that you find compelling can serve as that initial spark. The inspiration can come from anywhere, but it's often just a matter of knowing yourself and your own tastes. What do you like? What are the people in your life like? What really speaks to you in a character? What's an existing fictional character that you'd like to rewrite and take in a different direction? What's an aspect of yourself that you would like to see represented more often in fiction? It doesn't have to be something super deep or fleshed out right from the start, though. You can start with something as simple as "I want a black cat character" or "I want a character who dresses like an arcade carpet" or "I want a character who looks scary but is actually nice." Whatever it is, it's something that differentiates the new character from the ones I already have, because otherwise I'd just be using them.

Contrast

From there, you can start brainstorming other traits that might go with those core traits. Some of those may be traits that naturally complement each other. Continuing with the black cat example, maybe you wanna play into the common cultural perception of black cats and say that this character brings bad luck, or is associated with witchcraft. However, I often like to give characters contrasting or even seemingly contradictory traits, which can help elevate a character beyond a stock archetype. Real people tend to be a walking ball of contradictions, after all.

I've talked a lot about how I did this with the main cast of SLARPG. Melody is a fox, traditionally a crafty and untrustworthy predator, but she's extremely introverted and gentle. Allison is a bunny, but instead of being a meek and cuddly little prey animal she's an outgoing fighter who loves a challenge, and she has a muscular build. I think this kind of thing gives characters some fun flavor, and can be really effective for both comedy and drama. For an example from something I didn't write, take Senshi from Dungeon Meshi. He's a dwarf, and he embodies certain stereotypical aspects of dwarves - he's a short, buff man with a big bushy beard, he lives underground, he's stubborn and doesn't like elven magic - but he also goes against some of them. Instead of being an expert on mining and blacksmithing, Senshi is a culinary expert who has a deep appreciation for the natural ecosystem of the dungeon. He's a weirdo among dwarves for not caring about the wellbeing of his axe and for using his super awesome shield primarily as a giant wok. And that's what makes Senshi fun and interesting.

So going back to our example, instead of going with the stereotype, we could make a black cat character who has comically good luck, or who's superstitious and afraid of witchcraft, or who's an extremely rational person who always believes in science over superstition. Or maybe you roll with the bad luck angle, but instead make the black cat be the victim of their own bad luck in some interesting way. Maybe this black cat has terrible luck with love and can't hold down a relationship. Maybe this black cat is an aspiring speedrunner who consistently gets the absolute worst RNG possible in every video game due to their own bad luck. Maybe this black cat has accrued a horrendous gambling debt after a long losing streak and has loan sharks coming after them.

These are all just hypothetical examples, of course. I don't exclusively make characters with ironic contradictions like this. The idea is just to build on those core traits you started with in interesting ways, and that's one of my favorite ways to do so. But honestly, a lot of the time execution is more important than the sheer originality of an idea, and sometimes really putting your all into playing a trope you love straight is the right move.

Specificity

Regardless of what direction I take a character in past that initial seed of an idea, the key ingredient tends to be specificity. To give them specific details beyond the most stock possible version of that core idea you started with.

This is something I internalized from Tim Schafer, via a blog post in the behind-the-scenes backer material for Broken Age. Sadly I'm not sure if that stuff is still available, but I did save this particular post about creating characters since it really helped me, so I'll directly quote a chunk of that post here:

No two characters would approach a problem or react to events in the same way. At least, not if you’ve designed the characters well. If you’ve left them too vague or superficial, if they are merely functional elements in your story instead of individuals, then they might react in the same way. And that’s a problem. So to avoid that, I’m going to talk about one the most important parts of character development: specificity. Making sure your character is a specific individual, not a stereotype. A unique character, different from anyone else in the world. It doesn’t mean that they have to have wacky gimmicks, eyepatches and crazy accents. It just means they have to be specific. For example, let's create a new character. Let's say your story has a scene where your main character gets in trouble in school. So you’re probably going to need a school teacher. Imagine a school teacher for a bit. Do you see her in a little red schoolhouse? Maybe a bun in her hair? An apple on her desk? Thick black glasses? Let’s put a ruler in her hand for good measure. Done! We have our teacher character. She’s ready to be in the scene where our hero goes to school and the teacher sends her to the principal’s office for passing notes. Right? I mean, this character doesn’t have too many lines, so why develop her character any more? The problem is that this teacher is a very shallow stereotype of a teacher. She has no specific attributes that make her memorable. She’s the teacher you would get in a set of free clip art. She might not have many lines, but if all your supporting characters are this way, your story will be more bland than it should be. Even if this teacher is only onscreen for a minute, she should be unique and different from any other teacher in the world. Luckily, it's not actually that hard to make her so. You just have to ask some very basic, specific questions.

Tim goes on to explain how simple exercises like filling out character sheets with basic questions about your character (there are a million of these online) can help push a character beyond a stock archetype, even if it's a minor supporting character. Questions about where they're from, their likes and dislikes, their beliefs, their goals in life, that sort of thing. For minor characters especially, a lot of these details may never actually come up in a story, but just asking even a few of these questions and giving them specific answers helps you see them less like an archetype and more like a real person in your head. Maybe you never bring up your character's backstory or their favorite sport or what kind of music they listen to, but just having a specific answer for questions like that might help color the way you depict that character in subtle ways. It makes it feel like they aren't defined by just that one core trait you started with, and helps make the characters and world feel more alive, like there's stuff going on with them beyond the bounds of the story or the drawing.

It's a careful balancing act, though. It's easy for a character to feel like they're a collection of too many unrelated gimmicks and quirks. Again, like Tim said, these specifics don't have to make for the craziest, most original character ever, there just has to be something there.

Let's go back to SLARPG as an example, where I combined broad character archetypes I liked with more specific personal elements that I felt like I wasn't seeing enough in the fiction I liked. Melody is riffing on the common idea of the reserved healer character in the RPG or MMO party and the shy girl archetype, but she's the main hero instead of a supporting player in another person's story, and she's also a fat bisexual trans woman who draws a lot of little details from my own life. Her interests, her relationships, her opinions on things, her personal hangups and dreams, these all set Melody apart from other fantasy healer characters and define her as Melody Amaranth. Specificity!

But it doesn't always have to be super deep, especially if you just want some characters to draw for fun and aren't planning on writing a story with them. Take my fursona. I've always loved dogs, so I made my fursona a dog. I chose a Samoyed in particular because I think Samoyeds are the cutest, and I hadn't seen hardly any anthro Samoyed OCs at the time. I leaned into the breed's signature fluffiness to help my fursona stand out from other canine OCs. She has simple identifying traits like being fat like me, wearing glasses like mine, and having a hairstyle kinda like mine (when I tied my hair up in a bun, at least). And there you go. Fursona achieved. She's not a wildly high concept character, but she doesn't need to be

Anyway I realize that this is mostly about the writing aspect, so here's a few quick bullet points about designing a character's appearance:

Face and body type variety are good, but personally I would say lack of body type variety is worse than same face syndrome

Knowing some stuff about shape language is good, but you don't have to be completely beholden to the "circles are friendly, squares are sturdy, triangles are scary" shit. I'm generally more interested in using repeated shaping in different parts of a character's design as sort of a shape motif. Melody's body, hair, and tail are all made of round, swooping shapes, for example. (This is more applicable if you're designing cartoonier characters as opposed to realistic humans, obviously.)

Knowing some basics of color theory is also good. I like using complementary and contiguous color schemes on characters and generally try not to use too many distinct colors on one design. Black and white and grey and various browns are good as neutral colors to balance out the colors of the rainbow, and gold can be a nice accent color

A small handful of identifying accessories can be fun, but don't rely on those to make a design stand out. Ideally your character should still be identifiable even when not wearing their default outfit, or even in silhouette

Aaaaaand I'm gonna call it a wrap there! This is a huge topic, so hopefully this helps with at least some of the basics! At the end of the day, though, don't beat yourself up if you can't sit down and force yourself to come up with the most crazy awesome OC ever. Just have fun and be yourself!

#rakruined #ask #slarpg asks

[mutfruit-salad]

read your criticism and have a genuine question about your thoughts on the branding scene. i completely understand how max's branding is inherently tied to a racist history, and it always will be, but i dont feel like the scene itself was written with that bias/intent. thaddeus also gets branded in later episodes and it's implied to happen to every aspirant upon their promotion. at what point in writing are black characters morally barred from specific story points because of their similarities to a history that's not directly related? sort of similar with barb, at what point can black characters not do bad things at all, especially in a story where there are near a dozen non-black characters who do worse things? also considering it's implied (at least, i understood it as) she's sticking to vault-tec to protect her family?

I am not in the best position to comment on this, because I am not black. I will do my best to add what I can, but this is a space for others to chime in.

Barb is interesting because she's essentially become the person who did the most heinous crime in the entire setting- by far and away worse than anything anyone has ever done. There really aren't white characters who did worse things- because all the crimes of Caesar or the Enclave or whoever else pale in comparison to being the one who literally set into motion the total annihilation of all nations on Earth. (This is setting aside her willing participation in the inception of the vault experiments- which is an entirely separate also horrific crime.)

The issue is they've created a setting that is, as presented, colorblind. Race is invisible to the writers, who did not consider it meaningfully while producing the show- as is often the case with white creatives putting characters of color into their stories. Colorblindness does not always produce entirely racist results- and when done with tact and intentionality it can even be revolutionary. Look at the relative inclusivity of star trek as an example, and the radical depiction of Uhura in the original series.

The thing that makes Fallout different from Star Trek however is that it is not depicting its colorblind future with tact and intentionality. This is a show that is intensely concerned with depicting the specific brand of nationalistic American politics of the 1950s and the Cold War- and they've reproduced that system for the show but with a black woman at the head. That's where the issue comes up.

This was a system that had racism baked into it by design. It still does. American Nationalism and corporate violence are built on racism against black people and other minorities. And this show desperately wants to depict these things, but they've decided to put a black woman at the head of them. They're depicting systems that are, by their nature, violently racist- but they've decided to portray them as being run by a black housewife.

Fallout 3 does a similar thing with how it depicts every major slaver as a black person. Eulogy Jones, the slave buyer at Paradise Falls, the head slaver in the Abe Lincoln memorial, Ashur in The Pitt. Hell Mothership Zeta adds in a black woman from the wasteland and even SHE'S revealed to have been a slaver. This is something Bethesda consistently does- depicting ideologies and practices with a deep history of racialized violence- and then showing black people at the head of them, seemingly to try to avoid actually addressing any aspect of racism in their stories outside of hamfisted metaphors like synths and ghouls. (I use Fallout 3 as an example but Fallout 4 does many of these same things.)

Thaddeus does also get branded, and he does also get treated to the same demeaning servanthood as Maximus. The difference, quite frankly, is that Thaddeus is white. There are just some things that are straight up inappropriate to depict happening to black characters without appropriate thoughtfulness and context. Never before this series has the Brotherhood ever done brandings- and yet this show opens with it in the first episode and introduces this brand new jarring concept with the visceral image of a black man being branded by faceless fascist cultists.

It's also important to note that even if they didn't intend the scene as racist, it still is. Like I don't think the scriptwriter sat down and said "oh I'm gonna do a racism" cuz intent just doesn't matter here. The scene was intended as a way of showing the severity of the brotherhood- but it also thoughtlessly reproduces images of historic black violence.

@orange-coloredsky I know you've been talking about this stuff all day, and your initial posts about the antiblack racism in the series were what prompted me to write my thoughts today- which is what this ask is in response to. I was curious if you have any other input with all this.

I'd also be more than happy to have any additional input from people better suited to answer these questions.

#fallout #fallout show #fallout 3

[necessarymeanstoanend]

string the sinner by his wings. in his head, a brittle bone. (advice - alex g)

could not for the life of me think of a background so we’ve got this weird circle thing happening again.

this original piece was called “nosebleed” for this reason but i decided that i liked the other version better

without background and sketch

#if nigel were a planet what planet would he be? #the quote is just there because i think of nigel everytime i hear that lyric #really everytime i hear that song. which has been nonstop lately #his eyes look so dark in this scene #i’ve seen a couple of other people draw this one so i wanted to get more creative with it so nobody thought i was copying them- #-but it just wasn’t happening. no matter how hard i tried #the brain could not come up with anything interesting at all. and i gave it three days of this bitch sitting on my ipad before i gave up #but i changed the colors a bit and called it a day #this one is very obviously referenced so i’m not going to take FULL credit but i still spent almost six hours on it (5 hrs and 52 min) #it’s more fun to draw with references and it’s important for the learning stage so i’m just gonna take this slow and let myself have it #anyway #let me know when you guys get tired of seeing me strictly draw nigel #also thanks so so so much for the love guys. you are all so sweet and it means everything to me omg #murderous intent #like minds #like minds 2006 #nigel colbie #art #fanart #drawing #digital art #artist of tumblr #nigel colbie fanart #tom sturridge #like minds fanart #procreate

[follows-the-bees]

Single layers (and no shoes) represent Ed's emotional vulnerability/openness and self reflection.

It's a common symbolism device to either have characters put on tons of layers when they are feeling vulnerable (Dean Winchester I'm looking at you) or go down to single layer when they are opening up. Ed's clothing is no exception.

Season One

The first time we see Ed in single layers is when he switches clothes with Stede. While during this whole episode, Ed is opening up, he makes altering life decisions while in Stede's outfit. First, the whole scene in the crow's nest where he takes seriously Stede's proposal to continue learning about each other's lives, and second when he lies to Izzy about planning to kill Stede.

I think the choice of black and white, the classic good and bad trope, can be read into as well. Stede is in the black leathers of Blackbeard with lighter color jewelry around his neck, showing the heaviness of the Blackbeard role and crew, while Ed is wearing a white shirt with a black cravat, showing Stede's way of piracy giving him hope while having a bit of Blackbeard's heaviness still there.

In 1x7, This is Happening, Ed goes down to one layer — the t-shirt.) Ed drops his jacket and goes down to a single layer right before Lucius rips into him about Stede's feelings for him and he stays down in these layers as they eat the snake.

Ed's emotions are bare, at the forefront. He is not only realizing Stede's feelings for him, but also letting his feelings come out.

And his shirt is purple — symbolizing Ed's love for Stede. (Sidenote: I love that blue is Stede's color and red is Ed's and they combine for a beautiful purple throughout the show.)

Both Ed and Stede are in single layers the first time they kiss. Ed confesses his love (what makes Ed happy is you) while they sit next to each other on the beach. Both of them are vulnerable, open, especially Ed. They are both terrified, figuring themselves and each other out.

Ed continues to be in single layers as he sits on the dock waiting for Stede. The color theme of purple is once again used to represent Ed's emotional state.

The infamous breakup robe. While Ed has gone back to the Revenge, trying to be just Ed, back to the crew that allowed him to be himself (all but one person that is), he stays in the breakup robe, sans shirt, most of the time.

Until he has to put the mask and persona of Blackbeard back on, he is open, and emotional in front of Lucius and then the crew.

He is also shoeless during most of these scenes. While Ed being shoeless is more prevalent in season two, I think it ties into a deeper level of self reflection.

Season Two

Ed is down to only a black shirt and pants in the grav(e)y basket.

This time the t-shirt is black — symbolizing Ed's dark headspace. But once again, it's all about his emotions and Ed really feeling them. He is self-reflecting, looking into himself and realizing what he wants in life, what he thinks of himself, and finally deciding that ultimately, he wants to live.

There is the moment in Purgatory where Ed makes a shoe and puts it on, symbolizing one foot in the grave. But by the time Ed climbs to the cliff edge, he is back down to no shoes. This symbolizes two things: 1) he is no longer one foot in the grave (foreshadowing) 2) that he is about to do more self reflecting.

The combination of one-layer and no shoes is when Ed is most open emotionally. He now realizes his own feelings about himself, and when he hits the water, he decides to fight to live. Yes, mer!Stede is part of it, his love for Stede cannot be hidden, it is out in the open, the shining beacon of light and hope.

I've talked about it before but the editing of the MerStede scene is amazing. The last shot in the water as Ed sinks down is Ed in all black, surrounded by dark waters, his feet the most prominent in the shot. This cuts immediately to Stede's feet wading into the holds water, joining Ed in both worlds.

In all of 2x5, Ed is in the rice sack (and I'd be remiss not to mention the cat collar and bell.) He starts out wearing sandals: during the talks with the crew, Stede, the door, and Lucius. While Ed is trying to make up for everything, he is not fully committed emotionally to everything.

Not until two things happen: Lucius pushes him overboard into the water — the symbolism of water as rebirth, understanding, growth is very loud this season — and in the process knocks his shoes off. While it is a comedic beat and parallel to Lucius's shoes coming off when he pushes him overboard it has a deeper meaning.

Ed fully lets himself feel and tap into his emotions — sit with himself if you will — once he talks with Fang. He learns that something he did in the past that he thought was fun was actually hurtful to the other person. He genuinely apologizes for that (the opposite of the corporate apology from earlier.)

He then continues that openness and vulnerability with Stede on the deck. Telling Stede exactly what he needs — to take it slow — and knowing that Stede won't do the exact opposite (what happened constantly last season with a certain character cause they thought it was "best") but he knows Stede will listen to and respect him. This moment shows how Ed is not only legit apologizing and realizing his actions, but letting himself be open and vulnerable again.

The last scene I want to point out is the moment before and morning after they sleep together.

The last shot we see of them that night, Ed sits on the bed, his hair down, his jacket off — down to one layer — as he looks lovingly to Stede. We can read many emotions on his face as the two of them are surrounded by all of the colors that we know to represent the couple — yellow, red, and purple.

In a parallel to the night before, the next morning Stede is shirtless but covered from the waist down, while Ed is covered. He is wearing Stede's robe, wrapped in one layer of comfort. The outer layer is blue — both Stede's color and the color of the ocean (there's that rebirth and change symbolism again) — with purple inner lining.

Both of these moments contain physical, mental, and emotional vulnerability for Ed. Ed has never been shy about explaining himself, but he is now starting to understand himself and process these emotions.

When Ed is in single layers and no shoes, it is when he is at his most vulnerable, gets to feel and express his emotions the most.

When he's Ed.

I may have missed some moments but these are the ones that stuck out to me the most. I also didn't dive into Stede here, but that could be a whole other essay.

#ofmd #our flag means death #ofmd edward teach #ofmd meta #blackbeard #emotional vulnerability #meta analysis

[creativeidiote]

Okie Dokie

—

The last time i did a screencap repaint was for Tennet, but I really wanted to repaint this scene. The lighting/colors and the expression was so strong i had to. Also heres the sketch because I kind of like it too. Also Alt version (just has more fuzz added to it and stuff, also my signature which i forgot to add on the first image but I’ve already typed all of this and dont feel like deleting and restarting the post so)

#fallout #fallout tv series #fallout on prime #fallout prime #fallout tv show #lucy maclean #art #artist #fallout fanart #fallout show #fallout series #fallout amazon #fallout art #ella purnell

[spicy-pears]

Hi!!!

I saw you were in the middle of writing a series. So I'm not sure you'll even take this request. But I saw the Maxxxine trailer and I really want a 80's themed johnny smut.

I know it sounds weird but just hear me out! 🤣

𝟙𝟡𝟠𝟞

𝚆𝙲: 1.4 𝚔

𝚃𝙰𝙶𝚂: 𝚂𝚝𝚊𝚕𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚃𝚑𝚒𝚐𝚑 𝚏𝚞𝚌𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝙲𝚘𝚌𝚔 𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚂𝚒𝚣𝚎 𝚍𝚒𝚏𝚏𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚎, 𝚎𝚍𝚐𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝙲𝚑𝚘𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝙱𝚛𝚎𝚎𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝙳𝚎𝚐𝚛𝚊𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐/𝚂𝚎𝚡𝚞𝚊𝚕 𝚟𝚞𝚕𝚐𝚊𝚛𝚒𝚝𝚢, 𝙿𝚊𝚒𝚗 𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚢, 𝙾𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚞𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗, 𝚁𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑/𝙰𝚗𝚐𝚛𝚢 𝚂𝚎𝚡.

𝚆𝙽: 𝙸 𝚑𝚊𝚍 𝚊 𝚝𝚘𝚗 𝚘𝚏 𝚏𝚞𝚗 𝚠𝚛𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚘𝚗𝚎, 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚙𝚘𝚒𝚗𝚝 𝚒 𝚜𝚙𝚘𝚒𝚕𝚎𝚍 𝚒𝚝 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚍𝚞𝚖𝚙𝚎𝚍 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚖𝚢 𝚙𝚛𝚎-𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚗𝚗𝚎𝚍 𝚜𝚝𝚞𝚏𝚏 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚕𝚊𝚖𝚋 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚘 𝚒𝚝.

𝙸 𝚜𝚝𝚞𝚍𝚒𝚎𝚍 𝚑𝚘𝚠 𝚗𝚎𝚠𝚜 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚗𝚎𝚕𝚜 𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚗𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚕𝚢 𝚗𝚎𝚠𝚜 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 80'𝚜, 𝚒 𝚑𝚊𝚍 𝚊 𝚋𝚊𝚕𝚕. 𝙸 𝚊𝚕𝚜𝚘 𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚊 𝚕𝚘𝚝 𝚘𝚏 80'𝚜 𝚜𝚘𝚗𝚐𝚜 𝚖𝚊𝚒𝚗𝚕𝚢 𝙲𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚒 𝙲𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚒 𝚕𝚊𝚍𝚢 𝚋𝚢 𝚖𝚘𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚗 𝚝𝚊𝚕𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐. 𝙸 𝚑𝚘𝚙𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚛𝚎𝚚𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚛 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚎𝚕𝚜𝚎 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚜 𝚒𝚝 𝚊𝚜 𝚖𝚞𝚌𝚑 𝚊𝚜 𝚒 𝚍𝚒𝚍❣️

"This is channel 8; WCAT- TV, West Lake, Austin. This is the beginning of our nightly broadcast-" 

Colorful luminescence painted your small face. As the humid night breeze kissed your soft skin, adorning your soft angelic features with a rosy hue. The Texan air remained oppressive and dry even with the swelting sun shrouded under the starry horizon.

Yet, there you firmly stood. Attentively drawn to one of the many neatly stacked TV screens. Displayed behind the unclouded storefront window. Obnoxiously advertised with oversized retro price tags.

You almost felt guilty as you stood there. freely observing the news, with no intention of buying one. 

Nonetheless, your fingertips anxiously reached out for your chest. Seeking comfort from the gold cross, hanging from your beloved prayer necklace. petrified by the ominous name stretched across the screen, “Night stalker”. Looking upon the name was enough to make your stomach churn.

While fear held you still on that little crowded strip of sidewalk. Your round lips skewed with abhorrence, as uncensored crime scene photos were flashed upon the screen. 

Each brief photo was more unnerving than the last. Some were more gruesome than the last, prompting your gaze to deter. 

For once you were thankful for living in a small southern town. Leagues and miles away from surreal Hollywood horrors. 

Little did you know, Texas had its own slasher.

Maybe you should've turned your nose up at him, judged him solely off his roughed-up denim and torn-up blackened tee. 

Hell, you could've told him to piss off. After pretty boy "conveniently" bumped into you for the third time tonight.

But you were too kind, an element his chaotic life lacked much of. An element he felt he deserved.

"Hey there, You alright? I can give you a ride home if you need it doll." 

Dark jade metallic paint, worn and embellished with bubbling surface rust. The timeworn appearance of Johnny’s beloved Ford pickup didn't alarm you at first. Most four-wheelers in Central Texas were also well-loved. Some were practically tin cans on wheels, worse for wear. 

 Thus, you foolishly continued to trust him.

Until you were met with the pungent scent of sickeningly sweet, aged blood. Radiating from inside his raggedy little pickup. 

Nonetheless, the stale scent was soon overshadowed by the addictive signature of your fresh crimson. As it seeped into the truck's dark vinyl leather seat. Collecting every drop of blood that Streamed down the plush of your thigh.

Leaking from the dark scarlet void, Pierced into your hip. Repayment for the pristine mark of your teeth, deeply embedded upon Johnny’s scar-kissed hand.

While you battled with the intense pain, Johnny’s blackened leer studied your body. Although you were raised to behave and dress modestly, the Texan heat truly did you no favors.

Your dewy skin rendered your once modest sun dress, skin-tight. The soft cotton grew translucent as it snuggly hugged around your gorgeous waist. Presenting a tempting view of your plush thighs.

“That was real cute doll…” Johnny’s aggressive southern twang caused every word to rumble down from his chest to his core. With his dominant hand pressed on the small of your back, Pinning your pain-struck body down in place.

Callously forcing you to rely your weight and stability upon your elbows. And injured leg, while pressing your small face against the blood-stained vinyl.

The way your gorgeous gray eyes glimmered with each wave of pain, fed Johnny’s sadistic desire to hurt you further. Thirsting to see your small frame broken and trembling under him.

“Since you want to bite like a bitch, I’ll treat you like one.” His vague threat and condescending tone made you realize the precarious position he forced you into.  The increasingly rough grip upon you your ass acted as your only warning.

Before abruptly lifting your plush ass upwards. Mercilessly rocking your body downwards, flush against his navel. Carving his way through the soft plush of your inner thighs. A breathless moan escaped your lungs, as his tip playing against your sensitive clit. Was enough to send you over the edge alone, your body instantly falling into submission. Your back now lax, lewdly arching downwards.

Your cries were the sweetest, as they brought a heartless grin playing across his lips. Sadistically drowned in your symphony of angelic whines and pained whimpers. His thrusts grew slow and subtle, his smokey gaze examining his cream covered length. Glistening with each stroke against your needy cunt, embracing the fat middle of his cock between your wet slit.

Suddenly, you’d let out a pained cry, which hitched into a stressed hiss. “That’s it…” Johnny’s charming voice began to taunt you, as his dominant hand grasped your injured hip. Your addictive crimson pooled upon his palm, wasting through his fingers. Your knuckles began to turn white, as you dug your fists into the leather for comfort and stability.

Regardless, with thick cock-dunk tears clouding your view. Your body still refused to go limp, denying him the satisfaction of seeing you broken. All the while shooting a defiant glare toward him.

Promptly his rhythm would come to a pause, while inconspicuously moving your panties to the side. While letting out a short dry chuckle into the night air, “Don’t worry, I love a bitch with some fight left em.”.

Your precious eyes would widen, accompanied by a soft gasp. Feeling his tip prying at your tight gummy entrance, causing a series of sweet whimpers to fall from your full lips. ”Aww, come on I know your tougher than that!” Johnny's tone grew husky with lust, His aggressive twang now deeper.

 Mercilessly jerking his hips, sinking his thick length deep inside your unprepared cunt. His size overwhelmed you, as an intense flutter climbed up your spine. Stretching you out more than you’d ever been, his tip kissing your gummy cervix.

Your pathetic scream was drowned out, as his blood-soaked hand covered your mouth. Yet, with tears multiplying on your lash line. You’d shamelessly let out a whine from stifled pleasure.

“What? My bitch can't wait?” Johnny cruelly barked, addressing your desperation with a mocking tone. All the while slipping off his torn-up shirt, making sure to keep his cock warm and buried deep in your cunt.

Although his scar-kissed frame was now free of his shirt, he continued to deny you. Giving you tortuously slow strokes, enjoying how your face skewed with desperation and frustration.

“P-please- “Your round lips parted, spilling out needy cock-drunk pleas. Only to be rewarded with a firm grasp around your neck, his hips setting a rough rhythm. You barely had time to brace yourself for his unbearable pace. Your eyes would squeeze shut as your voice began to wear out from singing his praises. Soft wails and angelic screams rippled through the air, filling the isolated car park.

His chest rumbled with a low moan, bouncing you off his thick length at an erratic pace. Watching your plump ass ripple with each thrust, while your breasts bounced in unison. Relishing the lewd symphony of your plush ass roughly meeting his hips and your wet pussy squelching as you milked him. Your hot slick traveled, coating the veins that ran from the base of his cock, down to his balls.   

His pace never faltered, regardless of how your cunt spasmed and clenched around him tight. Your tear-glazed eyes opened wide as your body brutally jolted forward. His erratic pumps grew deeper, slamming against your weakening cervix, pulling at the knot built up at your core. Your breath now staggered and short, gradually growing weak under the firm gasp around your neck.

“I-I can't.” Your body would fall limp, lying down obediently, as your edge came rushing through your small frame. You’d feel Johnny’s weight on top of you, his bulky arms embracing you his impaling thrusts grew languid and sloppy. His frustrated grunt echoed through you as your cunt swallowed around him, milking him dry.

A choked exhale would squeeze out of your bruised vocal cords. Leaving your mindless, with little stars dancing upon your gaze.

“Fuck- “his toned stomach tensed in unison with his contracting balls. Johnny was damn near mindless himself, unknowingly choking you beyond your threshold. Releasing a pleased groan, as he painted your empty womb with thick hot milky ribbons.

The grip on your neck would loosen, prompting you to take in short puffs of air. Doe-eyed you stared back into Johnny’s velvet brown eyes. “I’m afraid yer mines now, I’ll take real good care of you.” His thumb caressed our cheek, painting your small face with your own blood. His lips would uncharacteristically seal his promise with a tender kiss on your cheek.

#johnny slaughter x reader #johnny slaughter x oc #johnny slaughter #tcm johnny #johnny sawyer #tcm game #slasher x reader

[sare11aa11eras]

Heyy! if you’re still taking art requests and if you have the time, can you draw Arya killing Dareon?

“Did he ever find a ship to Oldtown? He said he was supposed to sail on the Lady Ushanora.”

“We all were. Lord Snow’s command. I told Sam, leave the old man, but the fat fool would not listen.” The last light of the setting sun shone in his hair. “Well, it’s too late now.”

“Just so,” said Cat as they stepped into the gloom of a twisty little alley.

-Cat of the Canals, A Feast for Crows

Hi nonny!! Sorry this took like. A month for me to actually sit down and start working on. Hope you like it!

Few notes under the cut!

When I sat down to re-read the scene, I was struck by how Martin’s narration skips over the actual killing, jumping ahead to Arya returning home that night. This is of course a dramatic tool, obscuring the murder from first time readers so that Arya revealing it at the end of the chapter is that much more striking, but I think it’s interesting from a writing standpoint that we don’t get to see Dareon die from her point of view here. We get none of her internal monologue, her rationale for the killing, just the conversation leading up to it and the consequences later. I really like this as a writing choice, as it leaves so much up to the reader’s observation and understanding of her character.

Visually it was very important to me to show the vair lining the inside of the cloak, a visual/color reminder that Arya makes this execution as an exercise of her Stark identity— he is a night’s watch deserter and furthermore he just make a remark about Jon. As a Stark, it is her duty to kill Night’s Watch deserters, and she likely feels a double duty as Jon’s sister. Vair is not consistently used to signify the Starks in the text— only 4/10 total instances of it, including this one, in the text are in reference to the Starks, two more are for the Freys, and one is for Cersei, so clearly it’s not a Stark-exclusive. Still, the grey and white vair on the inside of the cloak instantly struck me as a symbol of how Arya views Dareon in this moment as a Stark man who has betrayed her family.

I realize you might have hoped for a clearer depiction of Arya, but I had a few reasons for this layout. First, I wanted to obscure her face— obscure her emotions and motivations, just as the text does, leaving them to the audience’s deductive skills. Secondly, this was a pretty easy pose and it got me that visual piece with the cloak. And thirdly, the description of the scene emphasizes Arya stepping into the shadows, and I wanted to capture that ninja assassin mystique to the scene as it would have been from a personal point of view.

#asoiaf #valyrianscrolls #my art #art requests #arya stark #dareon the singer #affc #anonymous #hi nonny! #Asks #asoiaf fashion hour #cat of the canals #dareon

[ashesbreadandbutter]

Solomon x Fem! Parent! Reader || It's Okay, I'm Right Here

Word Count: 3,081

Rating: Sfw, Mature matters

Includes: Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Fluff

Thank you for commissioning me! @eternallyanxiousandstressed I hope everything is to your liking and again I hope that the things going on right now that may be painful heal and get better but I wish you nothing but love and luck momma!

-

It's that day and to say the least you were hurting.

You knew it was happening, knew the time was coming but that didn't mean you ever enjoyed it..

You carefully watched as Solomon played with him, a chest of toys that the white haired man had even gotten for himself sat wide open as your son ran back and forth just to show off his favorite toys and things. You can see the look on his face, the smile you son gives him as he grins up at Solomon with that smile you've always loved.

Your heart is literally aching, feeling as though it's being torn apart.

Solomon was always so good with him. Ever since you both introduced the two your son had seemed interested in the man even if he was a little shy at first. You remembered the way Solomon smiled warmly at the boy who slightly hid his face and then with that flair that he always seemed to have… Solomon kneeled down on one knee to the child and with a short little chant and a sway of his fingers glitter and colorful swirls seem to form from his fingers before poof! A toy sat in his palm, one that he didn't exactly know the boy would enjoy but really hoped so.

Though Solomon isn't necessarily one who cares for the way people looked at him this was completely different. This was you and your son and after being with you for as long as he has now it only made the most since that he wanted to get along with the boy.

It seemed to have worked out quite well. You knew from the moment that Solomon had looked into your eyes that he was a good one, loving and understanding and when your son happily took the toy after a moment just to make sure it was actually alright to take. There's a moment where he looks up at Solomon, bright eyes twinkling at the sight of the gift and Solomon nods with a hum.

“It's alright, you can definitely have this.” Solomon reassured the boy, something else you had noticed the white haired male was quite good with over the timespan of your relationship.

You remembered looking at Solomon after, lifting a brow as if asking how he knew the young boy would like such a gift only to feel your cheeks warm up just a bit when he seemed to smile back knowingly.

Back then Solomon had given a little carefree shrug, a light chuckle coming from him thanks to that adorable look on your face that he always loved to see.

“He's a kid. There's not much else they usually enjoy aside from toys and candy last time I checked.”

He says with that smartass voice of his that you always seemed to love hearing and you huffed out a little laugh.

You smile carefully, looking at the scene just a few feet before you with so much love and affection whilst leaning against the doorframe. You loved catching them in these moments, seeing that carefree smile on your baby's face while he spent such important moments with Solomon who was basically the man that happily stepped up to help you raise the boy. You had caught them a few times in some rather cute moments; catching Solomon feeding the boy, guiding and teaching and correcting the boy whenever it seemed needed …like an actual father was supposed to…

Oh course you never wanted to stop your son from seeing his actual father but every time you looked at you child… his smiling little face that seemed to shined brighter than every other star in the sky, you couldn't help the clenching you felt in your heart. It wasn't that you necessarily hated or felt anything angry over your last partner and you knew that realistically your son should be allowed to see his father no matter what you and the man had gone through but as you watched these moments you couldn't help but simply wish it had been Solomon to actually be the boy's father. Though, you did love seeing that the white haired man treated your son like one anyway even without you having to ask or say anything.

Your baby deserved a father and you and Solomon had talked about it so many times, mainly because you couldn't help but feel scared… and just like the caring and adoring man he was, Solomon carefully reached his hands out to wrap around you and hold you close. Telling you that it'd be okay because whether the boy was his or not… he'd happily help take care and raise him. And that's exactly what Solomon has done since the two of you… three of you met.

The air of peace and tranquility pauses.

There's a knock at the door…

One that you all seem to notice at the very same time.

You're the closest to it and as the two look over at you, you let out a soft sigh before turning and going to the door. Solomon frowns a little, he simply can't help it because while he knows you had to do this didn't mean he had to be happy about it… He looks at your son before smiling softly and the boy seems to return the little look before Solomon gets to his feet.

“Stay right there okay?” Solomon says to the boy who shyly now seems to nod.

He follows you, your child hanging back for now, peeking around at the scene as you take your hand and unlock the knob before twisting it and just as expected he stood there… your past husband, the man you nor Solomon wanted to see but as you try to resist frowning Solomon takes his place at your side, reaching over to rub your shoulder in a way that seems to actually convince you to open the door.

You pull it open and there he stood, looking at you first as a little smile almost dares to taint his lips before falling completely at the sight of Solomon and your son who crept forward until he could grip at Solomon’s pants leg as if the sight of the boy clinging to the man was like pouring salt into an already infected wound.

There's a moment of silence and you can feel the weight of the air around you getting heavier. You were sure he was simply displeased at the sight of you raising your child with another man but Solomon stares him down, as if he's daring the other man to do something about it.

You managed to speak first, greeting the man who seems to huff in return before crossing his arms over his chest.

“I've come to pick up my son.” He says and it sends a spark of blistering rage through you because after everything the two of you have been through you thought he knew by now that if you could your son would be exactly just that, your son. You don't like that tone he uses either, the one he seemed to pull out as if he was better than you and had something to hold over your head and Solomon can practically taste the way it makes you feel.

He doesn't get angry often he'll admit but something about this ex-husband of yours could really pull Solomon into doing so. Especially when he can see that look on your face, the saddened expression that he dreaded seeing on your precious face. It's not just that either, as his eyes turn from you down to your son he can only feel more annoyed, upset at the fact that this man of all people has come just to ruin all of your day.

“Our son.” Solomon suddenly hums and the tension in the air suddenly seems to grow a lot heavier as if the air around you all had turned poisonous.

“You've come to pick up our son.” He says again and there's a moment where both you and your child perk up just from hearing Solomon say such a thing. It's not like he didn't say it often, with permission many months ago Solomon had spent hours holding you, kissing you until you cried and clung to him and felt comfortable with him being this close in your family and home and now as you savor the feeling of his hand gently squeezing your shoulder, you've never been more grateful. It calms you even while your ex seems to sneer at the man who calmly grins, smug in his stance. He knows he shouldn't pick a fight, you've told him not to before but oh does Solomon love seeing that stupid, angry look that washes over your ex's face.

If it weren't for the fact that Solomon was a sorcerer, a lesson that your ex husband was still stubbornly learning he probably would have never spent any time dealing with this man to begin with. Even resisting simply slamming the door in his face right now was rather difficult for Solomon…

You pat Solomon and without argument, without further distraction, he looks over and down at you and his smug grin falls quickly as he sees the look in your eyes, that saddened expression… it manages to shut him up for a moment all the while calming him even before Solomon allowed his own irritation over your ex to bring out the worst in himself.

“Ah, anyway..” Solomon says softly as he looks into your eyes with his own before slowly looking back at your ex who seemed even more annoyed at the sight than the blatant disrespect he was receiving. “I'll allow it, at least until I figure out just what to do with you exactly.” He finishes and there's meanings hidden behind those words, a threat spoken like the millions of spells Solomon's spoken before. All of the sudden the room feels colder, so much so that your ex seems to shiver even though he's not even standing in the house… the only one to shiver, matter of fact, considering Solomon only had the intent to affect him personally. Something else he's been working on for a while now.

“And..what's that supposed to mean?” Your ex asks now, his tone softer than he'd like it to be and Solomon smiles innocently.

“Oh nothing, just that I'm trusting you to be responsible so I don't have to correct you too harshly later on.” he hums and then silence falls over all of you, a few seconds passing just to let the words cook and simmer and then you let out a little laugh as if to lighten the overwhelming mood looking over to your son who moves closer to you, now hugging you leg as you gently run your hand through his hair. There's a soft smile that forms on his lips as he slowly looks up to you.

“He's just kidding, surely you're happy to spend time with your father right baby?” You ask softly, petting that head that you loved so much and while you do so the two men seem to glare harshly at each other, fists slowly balling up on each of them. You son looks over to his father who seems to huff lightly through his nose and Solomon follows the action in a much similar way before nodding carefully. Of course the boy always wanted to see his father. He just secretly wished… he could do so without these moments, without having to leave. Why couldn't the four of you just be together?

Sometimes he still didn't fully understand it all.

“Right, I'm only kidding.” Solomon repeats, giving another smile now as he keeps his eyes on the man before him to show that he actually wasn't ‘just kidding’, that the only reason he didn't strike him where he stood was because Solomon knew just how these things made you feel.

Silence falls over the four of you before you sigh and you say goodbye to your son, smiling at him and taking the time to kneel down and give him the biggest of hugs you could ever offer before he slowly pulls away even though it hurts both of you so much. He had to be a strong boy though, the brave and smart boy that you always found him to be. He seems to take a few steps forward to his father. The man looks at the boy before sighing, reaching out to offer his hand and your son slowly takes it, stepping out the door now.

It's a bittersweet moment, one that leaves an oily taste in your mouth as you look at your child one more time, waving bye as they go to leave but not without your baby returning the action, quickly waving his little hand like his life might have depended on it.

“Bye mommy! I'll see you and dada later, I love you!” He says like how he'd do if you were dropping him off at school or something, moments that always managed to feel like slow motion once they actually happened. Your son's words ring in your ears as you and Solomon wave goodbye though not without you yelling out to your ex to call or text if anything ever managed to happen in your absence. Begrudgingly he seems to accept your words, sighing again and you and Solomon watch at the door as the father of your child helps the young boy in before giving a wave to the both of you before pulling open the drivers door and climbing in.

The sound of the doors closing, the sound of the engine starting and gears revving makes you hurt even more and just like that, they pull off carefully before driving off.

You don't even realize the wetness in your eyes until Solomon carefully reaches out to you. As he gently cups your cheek you look at him and as your eyes connect with his own all you can see if his care for you, his undying love for you that you worried one day might disappear even though Solomon continuously corrected you each time because he was going nowhere without you being by his side. The two of you have already gone through so much and continue to do so but Solomon was happy being there with you to go through it together. The look in his eyes are genuine, focused and bright as if you were the only thing that existed in his field of sight, as if nothing else for now mattered.

Before you can stop yourself you sniffle before quickly turning into him.

You wrap your arms around his torso before pressing your face into his chest, the tears falling just being able to be close to him in a moment like this and of course Solomon returns your gesture by slowly closing the door with one hand while the other moves around you to hold you back. You arm wraps around your shoulders, his hand carefully moving and petting your hair before he moves his other arm to wrap gently around your waist. He pulls you closer as you seem to let it out. It's not like you got like this everytime, not always but you did get sad one way or another and as much as it hurts, like tearing your heart into pieces, Solomon is here… holding you, caressing you while your tears seem to wet his shirt.

“I know you always hate these days but I promise you my love that it's okay…” he hums softly, his voice like a light in the darkness that leads you to a bit of clarity.

“He'll be fine, he'll be okay.. I can promise you that.” He breathes, taking the time to lower his head and press his nose into your hair, taking a deep breath and savoring your scent that he simply loved so much. “I gave him a talisman. If anything unexpected happens we'll know. I promise.. please don't stress yourself out, it's not good for your skin.” He says with a light chuckle and it does calm you down, his words and the way he's holding you as if he worried that letting go might just break you. Even with his teasing tone you know he's serious, that his words are genuine and even though your heart was aching you felt… so, so much better knowing that Solomon had even taken the time to give your son a seal of protection just in case somehow, someway, something managed to cause any malicious harm to your baby.

Which wouldn't because Solomon had promised to always help you keep him safe.

You can't help but cry harder, so grateful to have him here with you, holding you close while telling you that you were okay.. that your son was okay with him around. He's so caring, so loving, patient… gentle, always holding you as if you were the most prized jewel in his world.

“Thank… you..” you say with a shaky tone, clinging to him because you know he doesn't mind not one bit.

He moves his hands to slowly trail up you body, over you curves and dips leaving shivers running over your skin up until he reaches your cheeks and with so much care, he holds you. He kisses the top of your head, then you cheek, then back up to your forehead until he's left peppering to sweetest kisses against your skin and like a cat getting scratched behind your ears you seem to fall completely in his hold.

“There's no need to thank me my love and you know that, you know I adore you and that boy more than I've ever adored anything else. You know I'll always be here, yes?” Solomon says softly, his eyes gentle as his voice fills your ears and you hold his arms, nuzzling his chest.

“Yes..Yes of course I know that my dear, I-I just love you so much… I'm so grateful you're here..” you breathe, calmed down as you press against him like he's a life support and he holds you like he feared you pulling away.

“I’ll never let go of you…either one of you for I love you both just as much.” He hums as he continues to hold you, taking in your scent, kissing you…loving you like you always craved to be loved.

~

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me solomon #solomon x reader #solomon x mc #solomon x you #otome #otome game #please commission me #writing commissions #i will write almost anythin #writers on tumblr #writerscommunity #fanfic #x reader #fandom #canon x reader #x yn #x mc #multi fandom blog #multi fandoms posts #anime commissions #anime and manga #anime #solomon obey me #solomon om #obey me mc #obey me x reader #obey me x you #obey me x mc

[gateau-au-earl]

kuroshitsuji s4e1/ED thoughts

ok yall now that it has been over 24 hrs and I've seen the ep over three times, I have THOUGHTS. mostly very positive, everything was beautful to look at and the 1:1 comparisons between the manga and the anime made me very happy as a veteran kuro fan that had to live through the mess of s1 and s2 plots (even tho they might have a sentimental place in my heart just because of nostalgia).

but i wanted to come on here and yap about the ending theme and how it encapsulates sebastian and ciel's complicated and very interesting relationship. idk abt yall but im a big fan of the op and ed this season!

first things first just to get this outta the way, I dont interpret them as a ship so please dont come in here with that interpretation 👁️ I'm serious .

that being said -

the ending theme is beautiful in both its animation and what it says about the butler and earl's relationship. I'm just gonna get the gushing outta the way first but it was aesthetically GORGEOUS in its animation. the way ciel fell so gracefully and the colors with SID's music is cinematic perfection. the change in animation style is very easy on the eyes as well! gg cloverworks animation team!

this has been marinating for a while, but what really gets me is the scene where ciel falls. he is falling into darkness, when it suddenly becomes lighter, with the sun illuminating the clouds. sebastian "saves" him and they fall together across this very pretty backdrop.

the demon might've caught him, but that doesn't prompt him to rescue ciel, to stop him from falling to his death.

sebas instead gently takes ciel's hand to guide him there. he gives ciel a false sense of security, of trust, catching the boy when he's at his darkest place, but instead of saving him, he drags him to down to his hell. he is deceiving ciel with a beautiful view and promises in their contract that will ultimately hurt ciel. its cruel and will only lead to pain for our earl.

sebas is a demon (obviously) who is leading ciel to his doom, but the path they take is twisted and tragic but strangely beautiful like the gorgeous sky in the ED.

ciel enjoys the power and omnipotence he has with sebastian, knowing full well the demon is leading him to his demise. he knows that this relationship will end him being sebastian's dinner. ciel knows he can't trust sebas, but does anyways because sebas is the only person who can't hurt him until he inevitably does.

the fall might result in an ugly death, but the view is pretty nice on the way down. the beautiful sky colored with deception, manipulation and misplaced trust.

yeah, sebastian will end up hurting ciel the most at the end, but the boy doesn't care at the moment. sebas is the only ""person"" who knows him with all the ugliness of his past, yet still protects him, serves him, and doesn't treat him like a helpless creature. so ciel is forced to place trust in a fundamentally untrustworthy creature knowing he is inches away from the demons bared fangs.

sebastian helps him survive his living hell now and get what he needs to get done, so he doesn't care what happens after. his descent to darkness becomes much more beautiful as a result.

shippers may have one interpretation (which I'm NOT a fan of...), but this is how I see it, and I think it makes this ending all the more impactful and tragic. but here I am, and I'm enthralled by the beauty and can't look away.

anyways, thanks for reading my brain dump, and looking forward to ep 2 folks!!! hope yall liked my micro analysis/semi organized gushing, and r enjoying this kuro renaissance as much as I am! here's a professor michaelis for reading this far

#kuroshitsuji #kuroshitsuji analysis #ciel phantomhive #sebastian michaelis #black butler #shoukuzai sid #professor michaelis #kuroshitsuji public school arc #kuro spoilers #kuroshitsuji s4 #kuroshitsuji ED #do not tag as ship :/ #not ship #my two cents do with it what u will #gateau au earl #long post

[bellysoupset]

Okay so this is what I thought of while reading the interactions with the kids.

I just remembered that Vince is lactose intolerant, right? So how would you feel about lactose intolerant Vince with (reluctant) caretaker Max for a change?

I mean I can imagine maybe a class party or something with a kid wanting to make sure that Mr. Monacelli (or Mr. Mo because that is freaking cute) is having fun too, so they keep bringing him snacks.

I can totally see Vin accepting anything and everything from a kid with doe eyes and not having any way to refuse because the kid is watching him and wants to see Vin eat it. (Let's be honest, Vince would never even speak up because he wouldn't want to hurt their feelings).

After that Vin is feeling gradually sicker and sicker until Max can't keep ignoring him anymore, so Vin has to spill the tea.

Then Max is like "why did you even accept?" While Vin, slightly offended, is like "did you really expect me to say no to that kid?"

I know it's really detailed, feel free to ignore it, I just couldn't get this little scenario out of my head.

- 💜

💜! I hope you like this one, I slightly twisted it and it's a little different from my usual... So let me know what you think!

--------------------

Max frowned, leaning on the doorway of the kindergarten. His hands were full with a large tupperware with baking soda, food coloring and vinegar, the usual science fair volcano mix. 

What caused him to pause, though, was the sight inside the classroom. Mr. Monacelli, or Mr. Mo to the little ones, was standing, with a kid on his hip, a little girl… Livia, judging by how comfortable he seemed to be as he held her. 

Liv’s dark wavy hair was up pigtails and she had face paint on, the tip of her nose painted black and whiskers on her cheek, a matching look that was mirrored on the other children. Cats, the Musical, kindergarten version? Max thought with a snort.

Vince also had face paint on and he was chewing something Livia had just pushed inside his mouth, out of a box. Across the room Max noticed a tall chocolate cake, with a glittery candle that said 7 on top.

That explained it. 

Birthday parties were always the bane of his existence, so he was incredibly glad he barely taught kindergarten and the older kids would rather die than celebrate in class. As far as he could remember it, he had bad experiences under his belt. From his mom trying to throw him a fully vegan party that had been a flop with him and his friends, to his father getting drunk and forgetting about his birthday altogether, to the fact once he turned eighteen his birthday all but disappeared as celebratory day. 

“Mr. Mo,” a kid ran across the room, with glitter face paint all the way to his scalp. Max snorted at the sight, the parents surely would be over the moon about that, “tell Jess she can’t play with my toy.”

Vince frowned, crouching down to look at the little boy and Max frowned, staring at the scene. He couldn’t figure out this dude. Monacelli gave off military vibes. Football star, with his little homophobic fit the other day, driving that ridiculous motorcycle everywhere… And there he was, covered in glittery paint, scolding a boy for not sharing his toys and being fed cake pops by his little sister and her group of friends.

It just didn’t make any sense.

“Daniels, do you need anything?” 

Max’s cheeks burned as he realized he had been caught staring and he shook his head, as five little heads looked at him, as well as Vince. 

“No, just passing by.”

“Alright,” Vince waved him off, taking the boy’s hand and dragging him across the room to apologize.

It was a couple hours later when they met again. Max was smelling like bleach, after finishing up a biology class with the 10th graders, and ready to head home as he entered the staff’s lounge to retrieve his bag. He raised his eyebrows as he found Monacelli sitting on one of the couches, in the furthest corner, with his arms crossed to his chest and his head tipped back, as if he was asleep.

“Hey,” Max kicked Vince’s foot to wake him in case he was asleep, “day’s over.”

Vince wasn’t asleep — or maybe he was a really quiet sleeper? —  because he sat up straight with a groan, moving his arms to wrap around his stomach, “what do you want?”

Max frowned at the lackluster response, so unlike the man who always seemed to have his energy up, “school’s over, are you planning on crashing here? Maurice is gonna be locking this room soon.”

Vince let out a sigh, using the couch to push himself up and the other man realized he was a horrible shade of white… Damn near green.

“You look horrible,” Max said, taking a step back as he noticed Vince swaying slightly on his feet. Instead of denying, Vince simply nodded, bringing up a shaky hand to wipe the sweat off his brow. 

“Yeah, I know-” he interrupted himself with a soft, sickly burp. He didn’t bother finishing his sentence, ceasing every movement as he gulped down, only to let out another little burp and a groan.

“What’s wrong with you?” Max eyed him suspiciously. There was no way this man had caught another stomach bug after measly five weeks of having one, right? 

Vince pressed his forehead to the metal locker in the teacher’s lounge, seemingly devoid of any energy to put in his combination and retrieve his bag. Most teachers didn’t even put in a combination, everyone used the standard 0000. 

“Monacelli,” he stepped closer, despite wanting nothing to do with illness or this guy. It was just unnerving. 

“I’m fine,” Vince breathed out, but it would have been a lot more convincing if he wasn’t swallowing in convulsively and clutching his stomach. Stomach, which by the way, was pressing against his work polo. The guy wasn’t small by any means and Max could’ve told he had a tummy to begin with, but now it was nearly poking out. 

“Yeah, you look terrific,” Max rolled his eyes, walking to retrieve his own bag and deciding he was done with the whole scene, “feel better-”

He never quite finished his sentence, before Vince let out a little strangled noise and then rushed across the room, to the teacher’s bathroom. He slammed the door behind him and Max cringed in sympathy as he heard a muffled groan. 

Now he couldn’t just leave the idiot, right? Not after he had driven him home? 

Max carefully walked closer, tapping his knuckles against the door, “Monacelli, do you need anything? Meds? The nurse? Your mom?”

He expected to hear Vince telling him to go fuck himself, but instead there was a noise of liquid hitting liquid, followed by retching and more liquid.

Shit. Perhaps, even, literally. 

Max chewed on his lip, looking around the room helplessly as if an older adult would appear and take over the situation, but he sadly was the only adult. He looked at his watch. 3:40 PM. Office hours were over, the janitor and the security would soon be finishing their rounds and closing up the school.

“Dude,” he sighed, knocking again, “you kinda need to leave, they’re gonna lock us here.”

“Go away…” Vince groaned, his voice raspy and choked up.

Max scoffed, “are you crying?” really? “Mona-”

“I said, go away,” Vince repeated, much harsher now and Max’s mouth snapped shut, his cheeks heating up as his temper got the best of him. 

“Fine,” he said bitterly,loudly walking away,  “drown there, see if I care.”

Sadly, much to Max’s displeasure, he had a guilty conscience and couldn’t make it even to the parking lot. He let out a sigh and glared at the now empty parking lot. Only four vehicles left, one of them being Vince’s stupid motorcycle. 

There was no way the man could go home in a fucking bike.

“Moron,” Max groaned, walking back inside. He fully expected to find Vince back in the teacher’s lounge, so it was much to his surprise when they ran into each other in the hallway. Or rather, he ran, because Vince was frozen in place, an arm wrapped tightly around his belly and breathing through the nausea carefully. 

“Oh there you are-”

“Thought I told you to leave,” Vince groaned, not looking up from the spot in the linoleum he was staring at, trying to keep his stomach in check, “careful, or I’ll believe you give a shit.”

“Fever must be through the roof, you’re delusional,” Max snarked, curiosity getting the best of him as he stepped closer and raised a hand to touch Vince’s forehead. 

Monacelli was much taller, and bigger, so when he pushed Max’s hand away with an impatient huff, the other teacher stumbled on his feet.

“I don’t have a fever,” Vince scoffed, straightening up. He looked worse, more green and more drenched in sweat, “I’m lactose intolerant and I ate- I ate half a chocolate cake…” his gut let out an upset, whiny gurgle that was loud enough for Max to hear.

The blonde stared at him for a second, before cackling “are you fucking with me!?”

When he didn’t get an answer, except for Vince’s cheek ballooning with yet another burp that he muffled with a fist, Max’s laughter lessened down to a chuckle, his shoulders shaking, “oh… You’re serious? You’re in this shape because of some chocolate?”

He really was the one to judge, Max thought with a snort, remembering he’d be hurling much sooner if he ate half a chocolate cake. But then again, he wouldn’t be stumbling around cradling his tummy and whining. 

“What do you want, Daniels?” Vince groaned, rubbing a hand over his face, “I don’t fucking get you. I helped you, not once, not twice, but three times by now, and you’re still a dick.” 

Max’s chuckle died immediately, his cheeks burning, “sorry, should I’ve been bowing and kissing your feet? What do you want, cuddles and kisses because your tummy hurts?”

Vince raised an unimpressed eyebrow, “I’m really sorry you weren’t hugged enough as a child,” he said coldly, “but yeah, actually, I do have people who take care of me when I feel ill, because I’m not a fucking jackass.”

“Says you,” Max snorted, rolling his eyes and gesturing to the empty hallway, “where’s the queue to cuddle you? I don’t see it.”

“I know what your problem with me is,” Vince scoffed, pressing his back to the wall behind him and huffing. He was shaking, which was not a good sign and Max bit down the urge to ask if the guy was okay.

“Enlighten me,” he said instead and Vince folded in half, planting his hands on his knees and breathing through a cramp.

“You’re jealous,” he said through his teeth and Max glared daggers at him, his stomach dropping to his feet. 

He wasn’t jealous, he was… He just didn’t think Vince was anything special. Surely he was allowed this opinion? 

For example, if Vince was so great, why was he about to hurl all over the floor that Maurice had probably already cleaned? That was asshole behavior. 

Max mentally patted himself on the back, before saying loudly, “here, Mr. Moron, don’t hurl all over the floor,” and pushing a garbage bin in front of the guy. He didn’t expect Vince to make immediate use of it, falling to his knees and grabbing the metal bin with his hands, hugging it to his chest as a huge gush of projectile vomit fell inside of it.

He jumped back, startled, then tip-toed closer, feeling a new shade of shitty as he heard Vince let out a whimper and bury his head in, burping wetly once more and continuing to convulse and cough. 

“If you’re such hot shit, why didn’t you not eat the thing you’re aware makes you super ill?” Max asked, mostly to himself, hesitantly moving closer to plant a hand in the middle of the guy’s back. Even down on his knees, Vince was still pretty freaking tall.

Max patted his back in a hesitant manner, then cringed as he heard footsteps down the hallway. Curse both their lucks, Vince’s because he was about to be caught hurling his brains out, and Max’s because now he’d have to look out for the prick. 

He braced for Fernanda, the principal, or Maurice, the janitor, but raised his brows as the person who rounded the corner was no one he knew. The man was well into his mid fifties or early sixties, with wavy light brown hair and blue eyes… And he was really tall.

Max cringed as suddenly he realized he knew Mr. Monacelli from parent-teacher meetings and that the old guy would be expecting him to act like a lovable guy, the same lovable teacher he was when talking about Sophia or Livia. Fuck.

“Mr. Mona-”

“Dad,” Vince croaked, lifting his head for a slight second, “fuck- Fuck, it hurts.”

Mr. Monacelli all but ignored Max as he crouched down next to his son, planting a wrinkly hand on his back and rubbing in wide circles, “I got you, I got you. Get it up and then I’m taking you home.”

Max bit the inside of his cheek so as not to chuckle at that, “Uh- Hi…?”

“Mr. Daniels,” Giuseppe zeroed him, opening a small smile, “thank you for keeping him company.”

Sure. That was what he was doing.

“Yeah, uhm- Of course,” Max scratched at his beard, as Vince let out another sickly belch, bringing up a bit more watery vomit, and then leaned back, his head hitting the lockers, chest heaving, drenched in sweat.

“Babbo, I’m dying.”

“You should be,” Giuseppe glared at him, “what a stupida idea was that?” he softly thumped on his son’s forehead, “I couldn’t believe my ears when Livia told me. Cazzo, you’re an adult, Vincenzo!”

Vince frowned, looking pathetically close to tears, “babbo,” he breathed out, wiping at his mouth and clutching his bloated belly, “later?”

“Idiota,” his father scoffed, grabbing his arm and helping him get up, “Non pensi?”

“Dad,” Vince said a little harsher and his father stopped scolding him continuously, glaring at his son. 

“Let’s go home- Thank you for helping him, Mr. Daniels,” Giuseppe said, still oblivious to the role, or lack of one, Max had played.

“Of course,” Max said cheekily, following them out, “any time, Vince. I hope your tummy feels better.”

“Go fuck yourself, Danie- Babbo!” Vince cried out, as his father slapped the back of his hand, dragging him out of the school and towards his car.

“Don’t swear at the boy, he helped you,” Mr. Monacelli glared at Vince, “get in the car.”

“What am I, five?” Vince groaned, stumbling to the car and bracing against it, breathing deeply through the nausea. 

Max bit down a smirk, “Bye Mr. Monacelli,” he said happily, “bye Vinny.” 

Behind his father’s back, Vince raised a middle finger at him.

#sickfic #mywriting #vince monacelli #lactose intolerance #emeto #emetophilia #nausea #stomach ache #loads of bantering in this one

[dylanobrienisbatman]

Honestly say what you want but the new costume vibes for Bridgerton are so exciting to me! They're SO lush and playful and whimsical! The show has never been historically accurate, and honestly some of the costumes in season 1 were just boring, but this season they've ditched the attempt to somewhat adhere to historical accuracy and it just seems like the costume designers are having a blast! I love the big bold accents on the dresses, the deep rich colors, especially Penelope's dark green dress and Kate's dress from the teaser, i love the big sleeves and fun jewellery and whimsical embroidery and bejeweling! It makes all the scenes so visually fun and interesting and it really allows the characters to come through so much in their clothing now! Big, big fan of this choice.

#bridgerton #bridgerton season 3

[queseraone]

Hi, Sarah! Just checking in to see how you've been doing post 6x06, and sending a hug as well. I'm still pretty devastated. It's like this thick heavy blanket over me that I can't shake off.

Oh Tara, it's been a week, huh? My feelings are all over the place, I swear I've been going through the stages of grief over here? Sending you a big virtual hug right back! 💙

I was absolutely shocked by that last scene - I'm pretty sure I stared at my TV in stunned silence for 10 minutes after, just trying to process what happened. It's wild, because I was so nervous about a potential break-up, but I kept rationalizing all the ways it just didn't make sense... only for them to throw the most in-character break-up possible at us.

I hate it, it hurts, but to quote our girl:

I'm so curious to see how this all plays out. They've done a phenomenal job with their storytelling this season - I'm not sure if it's the abbreviated season or what, but it very much feels back to basics, very character-driven, and the continuity has been really great to see too. So I have to (cautiously) trust the process here, and I'm hoping the pay-off will be worth these bumps along the way!

I want this to empower both Lucy and Tim, delve deeper into them as individuals, and allow them to come together again in a meaningful way - for good this time!

I think my previous fandom nightmare experience is coloring things for me, because my brain keeps jumping to worst case scenarios, even though the rational side of me knows that everything's going to be fine - better even - in the end. Chenford is a massive contributor to the show's success, and they know it, so taking a sledgehammer to that is just bad business.

Everything is going to be okay. 💙

How are you holding up?

#asked and answered #theawkwardanglophile #chenford #the rookie #6x06

[kernyen-xo]

How’s everyone?

I’m doing ok. A lot going on. Wait. Not really, per se - just a lot of bouncing going on in my brain.

I got promoted to senior executive assistant along with a 10% raise.

I had my annual physical and received a good bill of health :)

The kid is still looking for work. I know she’ll eventually find something, and when she does, I hope she’ll be as happy as she was at her last job.

I have projects that I want to start, but I can’t bring myself to start any of them because I’m stuck in a rut. All I want to do is read, play the Happy Color app on my phone, and watch tv shows. Right now I’ve been binge watching 9-1-1 Lone Star.

Being in this rut is not good because I am not doing things that I find pleasure in doing. Instead, I’m just vegging out. I mean, reading is good, but there’s more that I like doing and I am just not motivated to do any of it. I know that I’m dealing with depression.

One of these days I’ll shake this off but in the meantime…

Currently reading:

If you love libraries, you’ll enjoy this book. It tells the true story about the 1986 burning of the Los Angeles Central Library. It was a disaster. The fire burned for 7 hours and after the fire was extinguished, 400,000 books were completely burned and 700,00 more were damaged. Many investigators descended on the scene, but to this day, the mystery remains. Was the fire purposely started?

The author also shares her own investigation into the mystery while weaving stories about libraries and the people that ran them. It’s a good book.

Next weekend the kid, granddaughter, and yours truly will celebrate our birthdays together, 14th, 44th, and 63rd.

Until next time ;-)

Toodles.

#this has been a kernyen update #20240414

[charliehoennam]

dinner date

summary: David tries to compensate for his demanding job and swoons his girl

Pairing: David Loki x F!reader

Warnings: Fluff, language

SHARING IS CARING, SO PLEASE REBLOG

David knows how you've been looking forward to this day the whole month. Ever since Crumble Crumbs opened up on main avenue, you've been counting down the days to try out the new café and bakery.

It's been a beehive since opening day, so you told him you wanted to wait a while for the hype to die down enough for you guys to enjoy a sweet little date without all the pushing and yelling.

Conyers was a small town. Nothing really new happens here, which happens to be one of David's favorite thing about it.

It's small enough for him to know almost everyone and to be predictable enough for his job.

Every grand opening in Conyers is the highlight event of the month and Crumble Crumbs has been no different; it's been the talk of the small town since then.

Everyone's been there, and word of their wide assortment of large, fresh cookies has been spreading like wildfire which only made you even more excited to finally try it.

The day is cold - sunny enough to enjoy it outside despite the winter season - as you and David walk down the sidewalk, hand in hand.

"They literally have every cookie you can imagine."

"I seriously doubt that. I mean, that's a lot of cookies. And who even is that obsessed about cookies?" David smirks, being his usual skeptical self.

"Who isn't?" You scoff playfully at him. "Cookies are seriously underrated desserts. They're crunchy and soft at the same time, not to mention salty and sweet too. They are the literally the ying and yang of desserts!"

"I'm pretty sure it's yin and yang, babe." He can't help but smile at your excitement.

"And there's a cookie for every season! Summertime? You got lemon cookies, lime cookies, coconut cookies. Fall? Snickerdoodle, peanut butter, s'mores and don't even get me started on chocolate chip."

"Alright, alright. Let's get a cookie in ya 'fore your lose your shit, cookie monster," he laughs opening the door for you.

You walk inside with a playful smack to his arm and giggle excitedly. The smell of the freshly baked goods strikes you immediately and wraps you in the warmest hug.

The café looks like as cozy as a scene from small town rom-com.

Little yellow lights strung across the ceiling glow warmly like candlelight against the pale, cold hue of the snowy streets outside that filters through the frosty windows. Bright green leaves planted on dark wooden boxes brighten the dullish red color of exposed bricks on the wall. Christmas stockings and decor hang against the dark teal bar beside the display cases of desserts.

"They got coffee in this joint?"

"Actually, they do. I'm gonna get a simple latte. How about you?"

"I'll join you and get one too."

"No black this time?" You smirk as your gloved hands lock together between you.

"You're rubbing off on me," he smiles and kisses your head. "Let's choose the cookies first and then I'll order the coffees so you can save us a table."

You and David work together to select different flavors to share between you both. You'd have one of every flavor if you could, but you know you wouldn't finish them all even with David's help.

He lets you choose first and he notices there's a a few you leave out. Not because you don't want to try them, but you feel like you should limit yourself. So, he makes a point in ordering the ones you'd left out and a couple of simple flavors he happens to love like the peanut butter and the classic chocolate chip.

You find a table to sit at near the window and take the cookies over to it as David soon follows with your lattes in hands.

Setting your gloves aside, you take turns choosing which cookies to try, chatting endlessly in between every bite and sip.

He just wants you to be happy today. He loves seeing you like this. He knows he doesn't spend enough time going on these little dates, letting routine to dominate your relationship.

He's always had trouble dating because of his job. There is no greater passion for him than helping people in need.

It's a subconscious deed that heals his inner child daily. He hadn't realized it until you pointed it out after he had told you about his rough upbringing one night.

Most of the women that came into his life felt it hard to compete with. His career always found a way of coming between his relationships until David eventually decided to give up on pursuing lasting relationships...until you came along and turned his world upside down.

At first, he didn't get his hopes up since he figured you'd eventually leave too. Only you didn't leave, nor did you hold it against him or make him feel guilty for his job.

Instead, you became his haven. His little peaceful cocoon to shelter him of all worries.

He admired that about you, the strength you had to understand and accept that your relationship wouldn't be as normal as others. Most of all, he was grateful that you still chose to stay with him knowing that.

He promised himself that he would always try his absolute best to make every rare second you had together as memorable as possible.

That's why he feels his heart sink in his chest when you both hear his cell phone ring in his pocket.

You smile at him and nod after seeing the regret on his face as he closed his eyes and exhaled sharply through his nose.

You assure him with a gentle smile and a hand on his arm that it's alright, that the call could be important or urgent. You know he wishes he didn't have to take it, but even days off aren't entirely free for him.

"I'm sorry, babe. I really am. I'll just be a minute. It- fuck," he sighs shaking his head as he reads the caller ID, recognizing it's his captain.

With reaffirming strokes of your thumb on his forearm, you already know from David's curt replies that he has to go in today.

The minute he hangs up, his heart is filled with dread.

"I'll get these to go while you bring the car around, yeah?"

He only nods and looks at you doey, apologetic eyes.

"Hey, it's alright... We can always come back. I'll make sure not to leave you any so we can come back soon," you smirk trying to poke some fun at him to ease his guilt.

He chuckles and nods as he gets his gloves back on.

"I'm taking this one with me" he says lifting the peanut butter cookie to his mouth as he stands with his latte in hand.

---

You barely see David the couple following weeks.

Despite being able to find incidental pockets of fleeting time in your schedules to just be together, David can't stop thinking about that date and all the others that he's had to cut short.

He's thankful that you're understanding of the fact that he takes his job very seriously, but he still wants to remind you of how much he loves and appreciates everything you do for him.

Dealing with an absent partner isn't easy at all and things between you aren't always perfect. His job really does take a toll on his mental health. He hadn't noticed how bad it was until the Dover-Birch case.

Convincing him to see a therapist to talk to wasn't very easy, but he realized it was necessary after Bob.

Although the girls were safe and Keller was found - fighting for his life in the cold damp hole Holly Jones forced him into - and treated at the hospital before being taken in custody, Bob and Alex were the ones that really haunted him afterwards.

The day Bob took his life repeated itself in his dreams.

Even in his sleep, he couldn't run from the stress of his job or from the failure that he felt he had been to Bob. And now, he felt like he was failing you too.

On those nights, he would wake up covered in cold sweat with hands that trembled uncontrollably. Looking over his shoulder as he’d sit up on the bed, he’d make sure he hadn’t woken you up. He’d just feel worse if he had, but sometimes when he did, you helped calm him down and he was grateful for the patience you had with him.

Having you was the only constant he had in his life. You gave him a reason to want to come home. You filled his bleak days with love and relief. You are what makes his house a home and the thought of losing you is absolutely terrifying.

Most of David’s romantic history consisted of one-night stands and short-lived relationships. Although he did really have feelings for the women, he’d had relationships with, it always ended the same way: with them leaving because they demanded more attention that his schedule simply couldn’t provide. And, even though he had tried to move things around to have more free time, it wasn’t enough for them.

David shut himself off from the world in that romantic sense after that. He felt he would only ever fail anyone he got with, so what was the point?

Then, you came along and proved him wrong. He knew he would never find anyone like you, so showing you how much you meant was important to him.

----

"Babe?" you call out.

You’re walking into the shared house you live in, sensing the delicious smell of your favorite dish wafting from the kitchen as you slide off your boots and hang your winter coat up alongside his.

"Ah, fuck" he winces lightly burning his hand on the handle of a frying pan., grabbing it in a hurry to set it on the back burner before the food in it could overcook. "In here, babe!"

Running cold water over the burn on his palm, he smiles proudly at you with a dish towel hung over his shoulder when you reach the kitchen, marveling at the romantic set dining table that was waiting for you along with lit tall candles, a bottle of your favorite wine and clean empty plates with thoughtfully arranged silverware resting upon a place mat.

"What's the special occasion?" you chuckle surprised.

He feels so proud watching you admire the effort he had put into making a simple night the most special.

"I finished the paperwork early. Worked through lunch, so I wanted to make you a special dinner, ya know?"

You grin, thanking him as he walks over drying his hands on the dish towel to grab the bottle to open it up and pour the maroon drink into a couple of glasses.

"I just wanted to do something for us... I know it's nothing special. Just dinner but…"

Your eyebrows narrow as you look at him curiously. He doesn't think it's enough to make up for his absence. He wishes he could do more because he knows you deserve more.

“But nothing. This is wonderful, Davie. Thank you so much” you complete and reassure him with a kiss. “You just made my day.”

Just knowing that he's gone out of his way to do something romantic reminds you of exactly why you stay. Under his stern facade, there's a heart of gold that he's learned to hide.

He doesn't reveal it to just anyone. He doesn't drop his guard and expose that vulnerable side with just anyone. He does that with you because he trusts you and he loves you so much.

Through these small acts of affection, you’re reminded that he’s pulling back yet another layer to let you in.

After quickly washing your hands, you take the glass offered to you. While you’re enjoying your wine, he moves around the breakfast bar to plate up the food.

Over dinner, you go on to share the highlights of your day.

Work isn't the most exciting part of your day, but every now and then, a couple things happen here and there and there’s always some gossip that you just have to share with David.

He listens to you with all his earnest attention because he loves listening to you. He could listen to you talk for days. He loves watching how excited you get to talk about your day, no matter how futile the little details seem to you because they’re details that were important enough for you to remember.

He’ll poke fun and let his sarcasm bleed through just a tad to make you laugh.

He doesn't stay silent though. He's a very honest person and he isn't afraid to share what he thinks in a carefully edited manner to avoid hurting feelings: a talent he's acquired over the years on the job.

He just adores watching how eager you get to share these things with him. His days are usually spent solving crimes that are sometimes incredibly daunting and hard to forget, so listening to you talk about your day reminds him why he decided to become a cop in the first place; to keep the town safe so genuine, kind-hearted people like you could enjoy your habitual everyday life in peace and safety.

When you ask him about his day, he's careful to leave the disturbing case details he had to type about the latest case he’d solved. Instead, he goes on to share a couple of stories shared by some of the beat cops from the job and personal lives.

They’re mostly stories about the weird situations brought on mostly by the drunks around town. One being about a crazy drunk in the holding cell stripping down and singing Chaka Khan’s ‘I’m Every Woman’. Another being about a mysterious and suspicious package that was delivered to a bank manager’s house that turned out to be a box full of dildos.

Hearing his laugh is almost like hearing angels sing. So rare, but still so refreshing to hear.  You can feel it chase away all the troubles of your day as the corners of his eyes wrinkle with each smile.

Neither of you seem to notice the time passing by. It must be the wine that he keeps filling your glasses with every time he notices they're running low.

Dessert sobers you both up quite a bit after dinner.

"I didn't make it myself, but we can pretend that I actually know something about baking" he laughs setting out the small cake of your favorite flavor from your favorite bakery.

You thank him with a grin and a kiss that he refuses to break.

You already know you want to show him how grateful you are and you know exactly how to show him what.

His kisses are warm, wet and flavored by the red wine and the sweetness of the cake as they meld against your own. He kisses you so passionately, the room seems to spin around your as his lips intoxicate you all over again.

You pull back, cradling his prickly cheeks in your hands to admire your boyfriend.

“I love you, Davie.”

“I love you too.”

#david loki #david loki x reader #david loki x y/n #david loki x you #detective david loki #prisoners #david loki prisoners #jake gyllenhaal

[starsnores]

Ok so. I wanted to share a wip of what I was working on for the prisoner au fic. I do really wanna write more for it, I’m just. Very stuck. Writing things and then deleting them, really chasing my own tail. Writers block? I feel like I’m very bad at stringing the little scenes or ideas I have together into something bigger. But I do like how this next part was coming out and idk. Part of me hopes that talking about it more will encourage me to work on it. Bc I liked talking about my aus and stuff and I haven’t in a while. This is supposed to be a very, very rough start to the next chapter.

Rough fabric chafed his chitin. The clothes he’d been given were almost as threadbare as the old tshirt now lying on the floor at his feet. He had scrambled away from the clown, locking himself in the ablution chamber. He didn’t know how long he’d been standing there. Rummaging through the drawers and cabinets hadn’t turned up anything useful, would have no way to hide it if he had, didn’t even have underwear to tuck something into. Karkat wondered if they still had his things or if it had all been incinerated already. He could hear gamzee on the other side of the door, moving with slow heavy steps, evidently not worried about him, at all. How long could he stay in here, avoiding the inevitable. He couldn’t stop the clown from dragging him out if he wanted.

The door hissed as it slid open, and the first thing he saw was Gamzee perched on the back of the couch. In the time that Karkat had locked himself in the abultion chamber he had changed, dressed in an initiate subjugglator uniform, boldly patterned but far less ostentatious then other branches of the cult. It made the sharp angles of his body appear that much more dangerous.

Gamzes eyes flicked toward him, and the fine hairs on his neck stood on end.

"You done, motherfucker?"

Karkat crossed his arms over his chest, still feeling naked, "Yeah. You’re r leaving?”

"We got shit to do. C'mere."

"What do you mean ‘we’?”

Gamzee was already stalking forward something in his hand. Karkat flinched back but Gamzee moved faster, dropping onto a knee and grabbing his foot, throwing him off balance. Karkat reached to steady himself on the first thing his hands could find, tangling his fingers in Gamzee’s wild hair.

He was gently laced into a pair of sandals, and he tried not to shiver at the feeling if cold calloused hands cupping his ankle.

"Never knew they made fuckers as tiny as you."

Karkat thought about ripping the curls from his head.

When he finished he herded Karkat out of the front door. The door clicked as it slid shut behind them. “That’s it? You’re not going to put me on a leash or something?”

The clown shrugged. “Ain’t really got to. You can wander off if you’d like, just don’t think most juggalos would take to kindly to a mutant poking around where he shouldn’t be.” He turned down the corridor and, after a moment, Karkat followed.

The further Gamzee took him out of the hab blocks the more crowded it became. He had never seen so many of the cult in one place, had avoided seeing this many at all costs. Most didn’t seem to notice him. Something less than not caring, their eyes bouncing off of him as he trailed behind gamzee. A few, though, stared openly. Like they were trying to peel back his skin.

Hiding his blood color was habit, but he hadn’t felt this conscious of it in perigrees. Too much time spent alone, maybe.

He tried to keep pace with Gamzee, his long strides carried him far even at his leisurely pace, and karkat was still fatigued by his injuries. He felt like he was chasing after his lusus again. He hated it.

#textsnores #prisoner au

[st7arlights-side]

Theorizing Pt 1: repression

UP AHEAD: so much rambling about Orange. written very late at night and not the most coherent, sorry. (also, all uses of Thomas are referring to c!Thomas)

okay everyone talks about the dark sides being their opposites, opposing colors, colors on opposite ends of the wheel, but wanna know another term for it? complementary colors. I think the idea of "totally opposing, entirely contrasting, nothing alike" is not really accurate to the lore that we have been given? It's clear that it's important that all sides are accepted, and that there is no "solely good" or "solely bad" trait. Everything has complexities and different aspects to it, and the sides are no different.

I've never been particularly fond of the idea of wrath/anger/cruelty being orange because it seems like a scapegoat? I am more in favor of it representing regret (as most appearances of it are present in scenes or conversations with regret present) [forgot where i saw the theory first :sob:] and passion (impulsive acts based in emotions, a contrast to Logan's character while simultaneously rounding him out and forcing him and thomas to accept the parts that aren't all logical) [theory from @/dillydallydove] as these have more dimension and seem to fill out the gaps in the sides a bit more, especially considering the general theme going with remus, janus, and virgil. These are aspects that Thomas represses, and he knows them by names that aren't really accurate to their full purposes. He knows Janus as deceit, while he is more accurately described as self-preservation. He knows Remus as intrusive thoughts, when he is more accurately described as his repressed creativity. He knows Virgil as Anxiety (which is fairly accurate, though it still minimizes his functions) though he might be more accurately described as caution? fear? an aspect of self preservation? Regardless, perhaps orange could be known as wrath or anger because that's what he manifests as, but that doesn't mean that this is accurate to who he is as an aspect of Thomas. Remus is intrusive thoughts because that is the only way he can get recognized, the only way he breaks through the suppression. Janus is known as deceit because he has to manipulate the other sides to get them to prioritize Thomas's self-interest (as well as his personal responsibility to protect Thomas from what he can't handle at the moment; deceiving himself, sure, but at it's core, preserving his presently fragile mental state).

What emotion, what passion, does thomas repress the most? he's clearly open to expressing love and joy and, more recently, stress and anxiety, even some hints of sadness showing. but what has he been repressing the most? his anger! his frustration! his (and his sides') sense of inadequacy!! Orange is being seen in these contexts because that is what he isn't allowing himself (and the sides) to express as themselves.

Sanders Sides' whole thing is accepting the different parts of yourself, with underlying themes of c!thomas's upbringing causing him to repress, deny, or otherwise have an unhealthy relationship with "bad" aspects of himself (which, boy do i have some ideas for possible explorations of OCD in this, especially with the prevalence of intrusive thoughts- and the ways Thomas and the other sides change their language around Remus to prevent him from "getting ideas"-). Orange could be treated as a character foil to Logan, or Orange could be like Janus, but instead of protecting c!T from things he can't handle, Orange is the result of that suppression. Like how remus formed from thomas (patton) forbidding Roman from having "bad" ideas, orange could be formed from thomas (logan) pushing down "bad" feelings, feelings of passion that don't directly help other people.

Of course, this brings me to how Janus (a "gatekeeper" of sorts for Thomas) would interact with orange. this is reaching more into prediction territory. I suspect that Janus wants orange to emerge, as prolonged repression is harming Thomas (which i'm pretty sure he alluded to at least once, though i'm blanking on when). (also, an aside, is it not concerning that during the christmas special, Janus, c!T's self-preservation, was increasingly inebriated?? ooh and the occasional gags about Logan drinking wine too-) Notice how Janus has been watching Logan? this plus the general willingness to exclude Logan (further pushing his frustration and feelings of inadequacy) makes me suspect that he (as per usual) knows more than the rest.

I... don't really have a conclusion. I think Orange isn't an embodiment of aggression, moreso a result of repression? I guess? And I'm concerned about... yeah everyone involved, but especially Logan and Janus.

#sanders sides #tss #sasi #sanders sides theory #tss theory #sasi theory #orange side theory #logan sanders #janus sanders #implied alcohol abuse #maybe. briefly #oh also #ocd mention #theorizing